Pen Pals
by Decidedly Odd
Summary: ABANDONED. The correspondence of Firelord Zuko and Her Royal Majesty, Toph Bei Fong, Queen of Omashu. Features weddings, assassinations, tea, and other silly things.
1. Ambassadors and Apologies

**Chapter 1**

* * *

**Disclaimer**: Copyright belongs to the creators of ATLA, and no profit is being made from this fic or the use of these characters.

**Note 1**: The words contained within brackets were meant to be struck through, but this site wouldn't let me format them that way.

**Note 2**: Shout out to my awesome beta, Madame Hatter! Thanks for encouraging me to write and for keeping my characterizations in line =)

* * *

"_Dear Sparky Pants-"_

"Your Majesty," Lord Huang protested, "you can't address a letter to the firelord in such an informal manner!"

Two women shared the room with him, one tall, plain and grey haired, the other petite, pretty, and young. The elder raised her head at the sound of his voice, but the only sign of her displeasure was a small sigh and a raised eyebrow. The newly crowned sovereign of Omashu made her annoyance much more noticeable. "You-Lord Stuffed Shirt, or whatever your name is," she said, her pale jade eyes narrowing dangerously, ". . . am I not the queen?"

"Err, yes, Your Majesty?" he said, wondering if that was the right answer. King Bumi had never asked obvious questions, but maybe this ruler would be different.

"And did you not swear an oath to respect and obey me in all things?"

"...Yes, Your Majesty," he replied.

"Is it really necessary, then, that I issue a royal edict ordering you to shut up?"

"Yes-I mean, no, Your Majesty."

"Good. Now, get out." Although her tone was exquisitely polite, an ominous rumbling punctuated the queen's command. The Earth Kingdom noble nearly tripped over the hem of his ceremonial robes in his haste to leave the room.

The queen waved a hand and the door swung shut with a satisfying bang, leaving her and her assistant alone at last. "That man," she announced, "is an idiot."

Lien shared the queen's opinion of Lord Huang. In her experience, the Earth Kingdom noble class was largely ornamental, and although they had to be placated and praised for appearances' sake, most of the time they could be ignored. That had been King Bumi's primary strategy for dealing with his nobility. But now that he was gone the lords and ladies who had been marginalized during his reign were circling like vultures, searching for opportunities to increase their importance.

Thankfully, the queen saw straight through fools and flatterers. However, Lien worried that if she fell into the habit of dismissing her titled advisors, she would also overlook the pearls of wisdom that they occasionally dropped. "I think what your advisor meant to say," she said, "is that relations between Omashu and the Fire Nation are at a delicate stage right now, especially considering the ..." She trailed off, searching for the right words to describe the diplomatic disaster that had happened just the other day. Her vocabulary completely failed her.

"You think that Sparky Pants might be mad because I kicked his ambassador out of my kingdom?" The queen looked surprised, as if this fact had never occurred to her. Lien knew that she had travelled with the firelord, when she was still a twelve year old girl and he was just a banished prince. They had probably even been friends.

But things were different now. Saving the world from a power hungry dictator was in many ways much simpler than navigating the treacherous realm of politics. Prince Zuko had been obsessed with honor, but as Firelord Zuko, he had to think not only of his personal reputation, but that of his country as well. Would he overlook the insult implicit in her actions just because they had known each other as children?

"Perhaps a more formal attitude would be the correct approach for this situation?" Lien gently suggested.

The queen snorted, but offered no biting retort. A meditative silence descended over the room, halting all work. Being intimately familiar with King Bumi's philosophy of "wait and listen," Lien sat quietly, even though her fingers itched to sort through the scrolls piling up on Her Majesty's desk.

Just as she was beginning to worry, she noticed the smirk on the queen's face, a mischievous expression completely at odds with her elegantly coiffed hair and pale, delicate features. In that moment, her resemblance to King Bumi was striking, and that similarity-spiritual, rather than physical-soothed Lien's concerns.

"You're right," Toph said, "I should be more formal. Get rid of the _dear_."

* * *

_[Dear __Sparky Pants Princess Firelord Zuko] __Sparky Pants,_

_Your ambassador referred to me as a helpless blind girl in front of my entire court. I magnanimously pardoned him for this grave offense, but, understandably, he had to go._

_Try to send someone without a stick up their butt next time._

_Her Royal Majesty,_

_Toph Bei Fong, Queen of Omashu_

(Written by the hand of her servant, Lien Zhou)

* * *

Zuko looked up from the letter to glare at the squirming nobleman kneeling on the floor. There was a desk separating the two, but even with that barrier between them the heat emanating from the firelord was overwhelming. "Is this true?"

"No! Of course not, My Lord!"

Zuko resisted the urge to roll his eyes. He didn't have Toph's excellent senses, but after four years of ruling, he knew when someone has lying. Some days he wondered if one of the prerequisites for becoming a diplomat was the impulse to deny any and all responsibility.

He took a deep breath, and the temperature in the room dropped back to normal levels. "If the queen of Omashu has pardoned you, I will not demand any additional punishments," he said, his voice deceptively calm.

He felt a twinge of annoyance at the way the ambassador's eyes brightened with sudden relief. Did he really think he was going to get away with mortally offending the ruler of another kingdom? Wars had been started for less! As a diplomat, he should have known that they needed the Earth Kingdom's full support. What would they do if Omashu imposed trading sanctions?

"You will, however, be removed from your position."_ And, consequently, be cut off from your ridiculously high salary,_ Zuko thought, although he kept that observation to himself.

"But-"

Zuko spoke louder, drowning out the interruption. "_And _sent back to your estate. You can leave now."

"But Firelord-"

"Go!" The decorative torches flanking Zuko's desk flared into gouts of fire, scorching the ceiling. Ex-Ambassador Ziyang was out the door before the flames had died down to the barest flicker.

Now that he was alone, Zuko sighed and collapsed into his chair. That was only the first audience of the day, yet already his office needed repainting. He also had a dozen more meetings to attend, each one bound to be more frustrating than the last. And because those officials hadn't done anything wrong (at least nothing that he knew about), he couldn't yell at them and shoot fire from his fingertips.

Zuko stared vacantly at the blank paper stacked on the corner of his desk. He knew he should take advantage of this break in his schedule to meditate, or to prepare notes for his next meeting, but his mind kept going back to Omashu, that fool Ziyang, and Her Royal Majesty, Queen Toph Bei Fong.

Queen Toph! Who would have ever thought it possible?

After some reflection, he could see the logic behind King Bumi's choice: she was the daughter of a wealthy, influential family, a powerful bender, and an international hero. She also had some experience in diplomacy; after the defeat of Firelord Ozai, she had spent a long time travelling with the Avatar, righting wrongs and settling disputes along the way. Tales of her deeds had reached his ears, but the last time he had seen her was three years ago, a tiny figure waving goodbye from Appa's saddle as the sky bison flew farther and farther away.

Judging from her letter, she hadn't changed at all. Zuko reached for a sheet of paper, unaware of the small smile lighting up his face.

* * *

_Toph,_

_Congratulations on your recent coronation. I have already apologized for my absence from that ceremony, but I must apologize again, this time for my ambassador's behavior. He has been duly chastened and sent home in disgrace._

_Formalities aside, in the future, would you kindly prevent from attacking my officials? Even though they [__often __act like flaming idiots and really deserve it] __can be difficult to deal with, they mean well. (I hope.) Please leave their discipline to me. I have a reputation as a just, peace-loving monarch to maintain, and if I can't use firebending to incinerate them when they insult me, it isn't fair that you get to pulverize them with earthbending._

_Anyway, I will try to replace him as soon as possible, but it may take some time before I can find someone who meets your standards. Until the position can be filled, communicate any concerns you have directly with me, and I will take care of them._

_Firelord Zuko_

_P.S. Stop calling me Sparky Pants._


	2. Royal Gifts

**Chapter 2**

* * *

**Note 1: **Words contained between brackets are meant to be crossed out. Also, I no longer include Lien's signature after the first letter because I think it's a bit jarring to read over and over again, but please assume that it's still there.

* * *

_Princess,_

_Where the hell is that [slave scapegoat] ambassador? The Minister of Trade is determined to forbid all Fire Nation imports, and I have much better things to do than listen to him rant. That's your ambassador's job. They also have to serve him tea and tell him (politely) that he's a prejudiced idiot who needs to change his mind, because I really like Ember Island persimmons and will be very upset if I can't have them for breakfast anymore._

_So hurry it up. A queen can't eat smuggled fruit. That's just tacky._

_Her Royal Majesty,_

_Toph Bei Fong, Queen of Omashu_

_P.S. As per your request, I have retired the nickname "Sparky Pants."_

(Written by the hand of her servant, Lien Zhou)

**o:o:o**

Zuko's desk was awash with paperwork: memos from his advisors, copies of popular newspapers and magazines, legal texts, edicts issued by former firelords, and reports, reports, reports (trade relations, department budgets, proposed reforms, agricultural output, the movements of rebel groups, and his sister's mental health, just to name a few). Somewhere under all the detritus were six letters from Toph, four of them unanswered.

He had been waiting weeks for this moment of quiet, the chance to sit alone in his office with a cup of tea and look over her letters. It was a shame that it took an assassination attempt to clear his schedule. As he settled into his seat, his emotions were messier than his desk: anger, fear, disappointment and hopelessness all churned in the pit of his stomach. They tainted his interpretation of Toph's letters. Instead of well-intentioned teasing, her words seemed like biting taunts, and her secretary's signature at the bottom of the page was an especially vicious insult. Zuko did not allow himself the luxury of an assistant, not since the last one was revealed as a spy for a group that was planning to restore his father to the throne.

He gulped tea in an effort to calm himself, but all he managed to do was burn his tongue. His annoyance at this trivial event was a convenient distraction from his darker thoughts, and so he allowed the petty emotion to eclipse all the others. In that frame of mind - irrationally, intensely irritated with the world in general - he settled down to pen a reply.

**o:o:o**

_Toph,_

_I hate persimmons, but I know plenty of other reasons why cutting off trade between our two countries is a bad idea. Most of them have to do with money. Basically, if Omashu stops buying our goods, the government goes broke, and then we can't afford to do things like overhaul the education system, pension off the army, and evacuate the Earth Kingdom colonies. Everyone who hates me comes together in large, angry groups, and then I have to divert resources to deal with rumors and rebellion, which only fuels the cycle._

_Have no doubts, finding you a new ambassador is one of my highest priorities. I'll get around to it soon. Stop complaining._

_Firelord Zuko_

_P.S. Princess isn't any better than "Sparky Pants." There are only two syllables and four letters in "Zuko." Use that instead. Preferably with the word "Firelord" in front of it._

**o:o:o**

Halfway through the first paragraph, Toph pushed her plate away, no longer hungry. She leaned back in her chair and closed her eyes, listening to Lien's voice as the older woman finished reading the letter. Her secretary sounded calm and soothing, but Toph could still hear Zuko shouting desperately in her head. She felt the same rush of sympathy and sadness that had prodded her into following him that day in the Western Air Temple. Of course, that very impulse had earned her a set of second degree burns . . .

Toph sighed and tried not to think about how much worse the consequences would be this time around if Zuko instinctively lashed out. "My job _is_ a lot easier than his, isn't it?" she asked.

Lien waited until she had folded the letter and placed it inside a folder before responding. "Yes," she said quietly. "Omashu has its own set of problems, but they are nothing compared to the scope and scale of the Fire Nation's."

"I'm trying really hard not to feel guilty right now." She slumped forward, dropping her chin onto her folded arms. "I didn't realize things were so bad for him," she murmured.

"That's probably intentional. The Fire Nation has to project an image of recovering strength. If people knew just how unstable the situation was, who knows how much worse things would be?"

"And yet he told me." Not Aang or Iroh or even Sokka, but her. She would ponder the implications of _that_ later on when she had the time. "He sounds so . . . angry. The last time I saw him, I thought he was at peace. Possibly even optimistic."

"Then perhaps you should offer him a few words of encouragement?" Lien suggested.

Toph snorted, mouth twisting into an expression of disgust. "I can't do that. It would be so out of character that Zuko would start wondering if something's happened to me."

Amusement crept its way into Lien's normally calm voice. "How do you think he expects you to react?"

She thought for a moment. "I'm not sure," she admitted. "But if we were speaking face to face, I would tell him to stop whining, and then I would make some sarcastic, sassy remark to change the subject."

The older woman laughed softly, something she had started doing because Toph couldn't see her smile. She appreciated the gesture; it made her feel closer to her serene, capable secretary. Less like an employer and more like a friend. "Shall I start writing your reply then?"

**o:o:o**

_Dancing Dragon,_

Me,_ Complain? Rearrange these words into a well known phrase: black pot kettle calling._

_Still, however whiny, angsty, and irritating you can be, you always get the job done. I'll just have to wait. (But this had better not happen again!)_

_Anyway, you really need to rethink your stance on persimmons. They are an amazing, tasty fruit. I'd send you a basket, but that doesn't really make any sense, since you can get them more easily than I can, and the palace kitchens are running dangerously low. I had a big breakfast the other day._

_Have some cabbage instead._

_Her Royal Majesty,_

_Toph Bei Fong, Queen of Omashu_

_P.S. Maybe I'll call you by your proper title when you call me by mine?_

**o:o:o**

Nearly two weeks passed before Zuko saw Toph's letter, so for a while he didn't think she was going to respond at all.

Time and several political successes (including the capture of the group responsible for the assassin) had cooled his temper, and now he regretted writing what he did. It was possible he had offended her, although the Toph he remembered possessed a rather thick skin and the ability to give as good as she got. It was one of the things he admired most about her.

However, the missing letter eventually appeared, taped to a large wooden crate that had been sent to the kitchens by accident. It was a forgivable error, since the box was filled with fresh heads of cabbage. Zuko ripped open her letter and read it on the spot - not because he was anxious to hear from her, of course, but because he was seeking an explanation for this strange delivery.

The firelord's laughter - surprised, happy, and just a little bit relieved - startled everyone in the room, even himself. The servants ducked their heads so that he would not notice their smiles. Oblivious to their reaction, Zuko slipped the letter into his pocket and left to deal with another crisis.

Later, as he sat in his office with a crisp sheet of paper on his desk and a pen in his hand, he couldn't think of anything to write. How to tell her, with only a finite number of words, that she made him feel better simply by being herself? His apologies seemed stilted and his thanks sounded contrived, so instead he just asked her the one thing he really wanted to know, and hoped that she somehow knew the things he had tried to say.

**o:o:o**

_To Her Royal Majesty,__Toph Bei Fong, Queen of Omashu:_

_What am I supposed to do with a basket of cabbage?_

_Firelord Zuko_

_P.S. Happy?_

**o:o:o**

Although the Firelord's note had been read to her at breakfast, Toph waited until late in the afternoon to dictate her reply. But in spite of the delay, the salutation and signature contained more words than the actual letter.

"Is that all, your majesty?" Lien asked, surprised by the shortness of the message. A messenger hawk would have to fly two days to deliver just three words.

"Yes," Toph answered, already distracted by thoughts of her next audience. "Do you think it needs to be longer?"

"Well, are you convinced he's no longer angry with you?"

"Positive. Didn't you notice?" She flashed a shark-like grin. "He called me _Her Royal Majesty."_

**o:o:o**

_Princess Sparky Pants,_

_Eat them. Duh._

_Her Royal Majesty,_

_Toph Bei Fong, Queen of Omashu_

_P.S. Nice try, but my proper title is "The World's Greatest Earthbender_."

* * *

**Note 2:** I had a lot of trouble cranking out this chapter, and it came out a lot darker than I had ever intended for this story. I had over 1k words of frivolous, silly story written, but Zuko demanded that his issues be taken seriously (instead of shoved awkwardly under the rug, which was my intention), and I had to scrap that entire story arc and start all over. The incomplete pieces are here: decidedly-odd . livejournal . com / 5910 . html # cutid1

**Note 3**: A word of thanks goes to my awesome beta, Madame Hatter! She has a pretty nifty fic out, entitled _The Badgerfrog Kiss_. For those of you craving some Toph x Zuko goodness, give it a shot. It's full of fluff and is updated much more frequently than this story (something she's always bugging me about).


	3. An Honored Visitor

**Chapter 3**

* * *

**Disclaimer: **I own nothing. Obviously.

**Note 1: **I'm sorry I made you all wait so long. Feel free to throw virtual stones.

* * *

"Your Majesty!"

"Yes?"

"Err, you're alright?"

"I'm fine, although the same can no longer be said for my palace." Toph's unfocused gaze shifted from the rather large hole in the north wall of her office to the now embarrassed group of guards standing on the other side of her desk. "I wasn't aware that we were scheduled for a remodel."

One of the men took a few steps forward, placing himself directly across from her. "Apologies, Your Majesty. We received information that a powerful firebender had infiltrated the palace and was headed straight for you." He added, with a touch of righteous defiance, "We were worried for your safety."

The queen barely refrained from rolling her eyes. "Good thing, then, that I've already located the firebender. He's over there, behind that pillar," she gestured to a corner of the room where a portly gentleman in dusty travelling clothes was struggling to stand. "He dove for cover when the wall exploded."

Toph stood and smiled, all saccharine sweetness. Suddenly nervous, the guard clasped his hands behind his back, adam's apple bobbing as he swallowed. "Someone help _my guest_ to his feet. We will be taking tea in my sitting room while the refurbishment is underway." Ignoring the new entrance, she headed towards the still intact double doors. They swung open a moment before she reached them, revealing her secretary standing in the hallway.

"Your Majesty?" the woman asked, her eyebrows raised in mild surprise.

"I'm tired of blue," Toph answered, sweeping past her.

* * *

_Toph,_

_Did you know cabbage prices are on the rise? I don't really like them, but the Minister of Agriculture has recommended that the Fire Nation diversify its export crops, so it seems worth looking into . . ._

**:o:o:o:**

_Toph,_

_How do I stay awake during boring meetings? Back when I first became firelord, I asked one of my advisors that same question. He got this stuffy look on his face and said "There are no 'boring' meetings! Just important meetings, and those that are less important."_

_I pass on this useless bit of wisdom to you. Maybe you can make some sense of it._

_It will probably amuse you to know that I frequently daydream about setting the more longwinded ministers' beards on fire and watching them run around like headless chickens, trying to put the flames out. Sometimes I imagine "accidentally" stepping on their faces while they roll around, screaming, on the floor._

**:o:o:o:**

_Toph,_

_How is your fantasy any less morbid than mine? At least I don't imagine helpless ministers trapped in dark, airless spaces, slowly suffocating to death. The people in my daydreams always survive! They're just a little singed afterwards. . ._

**:o:o:o:**

_Toph,_

_I'm glad you liked the persimmons. They came from a tree my mother planted when I was born._

* * *

So much time had passed that her tea was now stone cold. Toph set down her cup with an ungraceful clatter and stood up. But Iroh showed no signs of finishing any time soon, so she retook her seat, crossing and re-crossing her legs. Finally, she kicked off her shoes, curled up in her chair, and allowed her sightless eyes to close. She could hear the quiet shuffle of papers as he worked his way through the thick file, carefully reading over every word she had ever received from or sent to the firelord.

Every now and then Iroh would laugh, or stop reading to look up at her. She couldn't see the expression on his face, but she could feel the weight of his stare, and it was making her very uncomfortable.

After what seemed like hours, Iroh closed the file and dropped it onto the tabletop, where it landed with an audible thump. He cleared his throat. "So," he said, "You've been writing to Zuko."

"No, those are letters from my imaginary friend," Toph snapped. There was something sly about his voice that she didn't like, and now she was starting to regret her decision to let him read the letters. She hadn't wanted to, but he had been so concerned about his nephew's lack of communication, and so surprised to hear that he had been writing to her on a regular basis. And it wasn't as if the letters contained state secrets or private confessions. They were just . . . random thoughts and half-joking insults, rants and complaints that no one else wanted to hear.

Why then, did she feel as if she had let Iroh see something intensely personal?

"Zuko writes to you quite often," he said.

"Every few days," Toph grudgingly admitted.

"He's sent you _gifts_."

"Just fruit." And a . . . pet, sort of. A messenger hawk, specially bred for the intelligence and stamina needed to make long flights, because she had complained once too often about the cost of postage. But she wasn't going to bring that up; it had only been hinted at vaguely in their letters, and she wasn't about to give that information away to Iroh.

"And _you_ sent _him_ a gift."

"I don't think cabbage counts as a gift. It was more like a reminder to eat his vegetables," Toph said. She used her queen voice, the sharp edged one that announced "I declare this topic to be closed!"

When Iroh did not immediately reply, she took the opportunity to revel in the quiet. But her silent celebration was premature; he was simply taking a moment to gather his thoughts and pursue his questioning from a new angle.

"There's a topic that keeps coming up in your correspondence."

_Which one?_ Toph thought. _Trade? Civil unrest? The price of wheat?_

"The necessity of an ambassador between your kingdoms."

"Oh, that one."

"What?"

"Nothing, please go on."

Despite her request, he took the time to refill both of their teacups before continuing. The soothing scent of jasmine banished some of the tension from her muscles, and she found herself settling back into her seat without even realizing what she was doing. "What would you say if I offered my services?"

Toph was momentarily confused. "But I already have an ambassador in the Fire Na—oh, wait, never mind."

Iroh laughed. "I'm offering to stay here as the Fire Nation ambassador to your court." He paused, his voice suddenly serious. "I think I'd be quite good at it."

The steel rod was back in her spine. Toph wanted to yell "What?" followed quickly by "No!" and if she had been a twelve year old girl, she would have done exactly that. But she was sixteen and the Queen of Omashu; in the past few months her aristocratic tendencies, the product of a very formal upbringing, had reemerged with a vengeance. Even though she thought of Iroh as an old friend, practically family, she couldn't let her control slip. At least not too much. "I would love to have you extend your stay in Omashu," she said, speaking slowly as she thought about how to phrase a diplomatic reply. She hesitated, wondering what to do next, and finally said, "But I'm not the person with the power to make that decision."

"That's not going to be a problem. I'm sure Zuko won't mind," he said cheerfully.

Toph blinked. She noticed, absentmindedly, that her teacup was vibrating.

Iroh sat across from her, sipping tea and waiting in expectant silence. Despite her blindness, she stared back, confident that she knew where his eyes were and that she was looking directly into them.

As she listened to the rattle of her teacup in its saucer, she became aware of her anger. At him. Hadn't he paid any attention to Zuko's letters? Buried beneath all the firelord's complaints were remarks about his family: worry for his sister, longing for his mother, and the desperate wish for his uncle's counsel. Zuko was lonely, Toph realized, and it would probably hurt him to know that Iroh preferred to stay in the Earth Kingdom rather than return to his nephew's side. The old general was a lot wiser than she; surely he had picked up on that?

"Toph," Iroh said gently, somehow managing to radiate understanding and serenity, just by saying her name. She started to shake her head, and then froze, realizing belatedly that she was making the floor rumble, which was causing the table to move, which was the reason jasmine tea was sloshing over the brim of her cup.

A soft stomp, and all motion ceased.

"I think I can do a lot of good here. Zuko will agree."

She had to agree as well; Iroh would be highly successful in whatever he chose to do. He was a smooth conversationalist and very easy to like. His past actions as the "Dragon of the West" were a mark against him, but he had gained a reputation since then as an honorable, peace loving man—a hero. His tea shop in Ba Sing Se was famous, as much for its owner as for the quality of its tea. He could accomplish a lot as an ambassador. But was the political arena where he was most needed?

She sighed, suddenly weary. "How about you ask him in person? And while you're at it, you can deliver a letter to him."

* * *

_Zuko,_

_Your uncle has a crazy idea. Try to talk him out of it. I want a nice young man as my next ambassador, preferably a good looking one with a deep voice._

_Her Royal Majesty,_

_Toph Bei Fong, Queen of Omashu_

_P.S. I've enclosed some passion pear seeds. They're an interesting fruit. The skin is sour, but the flesh of the fruit is juicy and sweet. Taken as a whole, the flavors create a rather pleasing combination. A botanist managed to crossbreed them several years ago; they're best suited to a tropical climate, so they can only be cultivated in greenhouses here in the Earth Kingdom, but they should flourish in the Fire Nation._

_I think you'll like them._


	4. Polite Assassinations

**Chapter 4**

* * *

_Toph,_

_I hate dinner parties._

_Firelord Zuko_

**o:o:o**

_Zuko,_

_Ditto. 'Nuff said._

_Her Royal Majesty Toph Bei Fong, Queen of Omashu_

**o:o:o**

A lot of things about dinner parties annoyed Zuko: the lines at the buffet table, the awkward seating arrangements and, most especially, the simpering hoards of eligible young woman that he was obligated to mingle with. Good manners demanded that he smile and bow and speak a few polite pleasantries every time he was stopped, but there was something about the predatory gleam in the eyes of certain debutantes that made him want to run screaming from the room, etiquette be damned.

The dancing only made it worse. A generation ago, even smiling at the firelord in public was a calculated risk undertaken only for immense political gain. Any man mad enough to suggest waltzing in the firelord's presence would have been silenced by the other nobles—for his own safety, of course.

Now? Well, ever since the laws forbidding "informal gatherings" had been repealed, every night someone somewhere hosted a party. Invitations were always sent to the Royal Palace, although reluctantly at first. No one really knew what to expect from the latest firelord, but it would have been rude to exclude him. Since Zuko wanted to be as different as possible from his father, he tried to attend as many as his schedule would allow, even though he rarely enjoyed himself. Thankfully, he was a very busy man.

Tonight's celebration was a bit different from the usual fare. For once Zuko wasn't the guest of honor. He was the host, and he had opened the seldom used grand ballroom of the Royal Palace especially for the occasion. The main attraction tonight was the Avatar, his girlfriend and, to a lesser degree, General Iroh. The three had appeared just that morning, completely unannounced. Their arrival had sent Zuko's staff into a fully fledged panic. _Oh my god! The Avatar! What color should his room be? What was his favorite vegetable? How should we keep him entertained?_

Safely hidden in the shadow of a velvet draped pillar, Zuko rolled his eyes. You would think that Aang had never visited the Fire Nation before from all the fuss they were making. And who had the brilliant idea to throw a party in Aang and Katara's honor? He would find out later, and then he would take great pleasure in firing them.

Zuko searched the room for the couple. He couldn't locate Katara, but the bald monk was easy to spot in his flowing, bright orange robes. He was surrounded by a cluster of courtiers and other social parasites, the type of people that Zuko tried to avoid at all costs. He wondered if he should send someone to distract the masses and pull Aang away, but the Avatar's loud laughter carried easily over the crowd. The firelord sighed in exasperation. At least one of them was having a good time.

On some unseen signal, the airy, pretty background music morphed into something fast-paced with a frantic beat. Zuko didn't recognize the song, but nearly everyone else did. The edges of the room emptied as people flocked to the dance floor, giving him a clear path to the exit. If he hurried, he could slip out the door and be down the hallway before anyone noticed. His office was in another wing of the palace; nobody would bother looking for him there.

* * *

"Zuko!"

Damn it, he had been so close. The firelord took a deep breath and turned slowly to face a slender woman in a stunning blue dress. His heart sank when he saw who it was. He couldn't blow off an honored guest and an old friend, but maybe she could take a hint. "Good evening, Katara," he said as he dipped his head in a bow so shallow it was almost offensive. "I hope you are enjoying the festivities."

In response, Katara set her hands on her hips and studied him with pursed lips. "Where have you been all day?" she asked, matching his rudeness. "We came here specifically to see you, but you've been in and out of meetings since we arrived. I thought maybe we would be able to talk over dinner, but instead of a regular old meal, you host a ball?" Katara shook her head in disbelief. "Really, Zuko? A ball? Whose bright idea was that?"

"That's what I'd like to know," he muttered. Seeing Katara's irritated expression, he offered an apology. "Sorry, I just had a lot of business to take care of. I put my staff in charge of the arrangements for your stay, and they went a little overboard."

"I can see why," Katara snapped. "You try to take care of everything yourself and give them nothing to do. So you end up exhausted and overworked, while your staff does elaborate things like this," she waved her hand to indicate the elegantly decorated ballroom, "in order to demonstrate their efficiency. They hope that you'll notice and start giving them more work."

Zuko discreetly took a few steps back, inching towards the exit. He frowned, confused by Katara's aggressive manner. She wasn't usually this blunt; patient, motherly interventions were more her style. And her harsh assessment of his administration . . . His instinctive reaction was denial, but she probably had a point. Katara was very perceptive.

To distract her, he asked, "How is organizing a really nice party going to impress me?"

Seeing that he wasn't going to argue, Katara relaxed a little, downgrading from an angry tirade to a reproachful lecture. "Do you have any idea how much planning goes into a successful party? Especially a last minute one? The guest list, the music, the food, the cleaning, the decorating—it's a lot to deal with. I've been to a million of these things, and I have to say they did a very good job."

Katara stepped closer, laying a hand on his arm. "Your people are pretty competent," she said gently. "So why don't you trust them?"

That was more like the Katara he knew, soft voice and small kindnesses. Zuko responded the way he typically did: he jerked away and stalked towards the exit. He refused to answer her questions. But really, shouldn't the answer be obvious? Most of the bureaucrats working for him were corrupt at worst and unimaginative at best. They either hated him for cutting their salaries and diminishing their status, or they were blind sheep that did whatever he told them to do. That was why he had to draft extremely detailed edicts and required exhaustive reports from all his ministers. If he left them to their own devices, they tended to shove aside any problems until they had grown too large to ignore. He_ had _to keep an eye on everything at all times if he wanted to save his kingdom from collapse.

Absorbed in his thoughts, Zuko walked rapidly through the palace. Katara followed just a few steps behind him, moving easily despite the trailing hem of her gown. He turned to tell her to go back to the ballroom, but he sensed from the stern look on her face that she wasn't done talking to him. For the moment, she kept quiet, and he applauded her good sense. Sound tended to carry in the high ceilinged hallways and walls had ears.

They were almost to his office when she finally spoke. "Zuko, are you alright?"

He hesitated, startled by the question, and she took advantage of his slower stride to catch up to him. "What? Of course I'm alright. I'm perfectly healthy."

Katara shook her head. "Don't try lying to a healer. You're short on sleep, you eat irregularly, and you're under extreme stress. It's a wonder you haven't collapsed yet!"

"I'm fine!"

"No, you're not!"

Caught up in their petty disagreement, neither of them noticed the assassin in the shadows. If Zuko hadn't stopped abruptly, the knife would have embedded itself in his neck. Instead, it whistled past his nose and bounced off of a marble sculpture before clattering to the ground. Katara ducked behind the statue. Zuko dove to avoid the second missile and when he flipped to his feet, he held a knife in each hand. Not his weapon of choice, but Mae had given him a few lessons over the years. He did not miss when he threw the first of the assassin's discarded blades. His attacker crumpled against a wall, hands wrapped around the hilt protruding from his stomach.

Zuko swore as three more men, masked and dressed all in black, rushed around the corner. They had probably been waiting in ambush further up the hallway, but had come running when they heard the noise from their fight. Two of the assassins carried swords while the third held a fireball between his open hands. He hurled it in Zuko's direction, but the firelord managed to deflect the attack with a thin stream of flame. "Katara!" he ordered, "Go back to the ballroom and get help!"

"I can't leave you here!" she yelled. "And besides, I don't think I remember the way."

Crap. "Do you have any water?" he asked, keeping his eyes on the firebender as he slowly advanced. The other two remained at the end of the hall, guarding the path. With the way forward blocked, his only options were to stand his ground and face the assassins, or to retreat back the way he had come. He hated the thought of running from a fight, but he was outnumbered and he had Katara to think about.

She answered his question by flinging blood red shards of ice at their attackers. A shudder of revulsion crawled up Zuko's spine. He tightened his grip on the last knife and wished briefly for his swords.

Years had passed since they had last fought together, but some of that battle chemistry remained. Katara hurled another attack and Zuko charged, using her razor sharp blades for cover. The nearest assassin responded with a geyser of fire, melting all of Katara's ice shards and hoping to catch Zuko in the rush. He was powerful, but slow. Zuko leaped to avoid the flames and sent his knife flying into the firebender's shoulder. His booted foot caught the man in the face as he came down, momentum and gravity combining into a force strong enough to shatter his jaw.

Shockwaves from the blow threw Zuko off balance, and he stumbled as he landed. He hopped awkwardly to the side as he tried to regain his equilibrium, and that ungraceful movement saved him from being cleaved in half. The second assassin had put too much power into his downward swing, and now his arm was overextended. Zuko's hit caught him in the elbow; there was the sound of bone cracking, and he fell to his knees, gasping in pain. Holding the man by the shoulder, the firelord ripped his mask away before plowing his fist into the man's nose. The sickening crunch of cartilage breaking filled him with vicious satisfaction.

The third assassin was curled in a ball on the floor, Katara standing over the body. Blood pooled around her ankles, but he didn't know who it belonged to. "He's still breathing," she announced when he caught her eye. Zuko nodded approvingly. During the last attempt on his life, his overzealous guards had killed everyone. This time the assassins lay strewn about the room in unconscious heaps, incapacitated yet mostly alive. At least two of them weren't in any condition to talk, but maybe the others would yield some useful information.

Zuko felt rather proud of himself. Four assassins dealt with in a matter of minutes, and not a scratch on either him or Katara. Adrenaline was still pumping through his veins, easing the ache in his muscles and sharpening his senses. He imagined he could hear the echo of footsteps coming from the direction of the ballroom. His guards—better late than never, he supposed—or the assassins' reinforcements. Just in case, he bent and scooped up a sword.

A gust of wind heralded Aang's arrival. The Avatar balanced on a spinning globe of air, his staff held horizontally in front of him, ready to attack. He didn't lower it as he absorbed the scene: Katara in a stained blue dress, Zuko with a sword in hand, and four crimson drenched bodies. "Assassins?"

"Obviously," Katara said, her voice dripping with sarcasm. "But don't worry; we've already taken care of it."

Zuko looked at her in surprise. Maybe she was still feeling on edge from the attack, but he didn't understand why she was so angry at her boyfriend. Something must have happened between the two of them earlier in the day. Whatever it was, it was probably Aang's fault. And even if it wasn't, he was going to be the one doing the apologizing. Didn't it always work out that way?

Aang released the sphere, his robes flaring as he dropped to the ground. "Are you guys alright?" he asked, diplomatically ignoring her belligerence.

Unfortunately, his peacemaking efforts only further irritated his girlfriend. "Why don't you go back to your party, Mr. Guest-of-Honor? I'm sure you'd rather be surrounding by your adoring fans."

"You know that's not true!" Aang exclaimed, annoyance replacing the worry in his eyes.

"Oh really?" she said coldly. "Then explain to me why you spent all day being waited on hand and foot by cooing fan girls! And when I told you that I was going to look for Zuko, you ignored me! What would have happened if I had let him leave the ballroom alone? He could have died!"

The couple turned to stare at the firelord. He nearly flinched. If he had to choose between assassins and arguing lovers, he'd take the assassins any day. He held his hands up in front of him, hoping to appear non-threatening. And then he remembered he was still holding the sword. "Err, I'm sure I would have been fine?" he offered.

"Don't be silly," Katara snapped. "You can barely take care of yourself. I thought Toph was overreacting when she insisted that I talk to you, but now I can see that she was right to be concerned."

"What?" He hadn't intended to interrupt their quarrel, but the idea that Toph might be discussing him with other people felt almost like a betrayal. And the idea that Toph was concerned about him was even more strangely unsettling. "When did you talk to Toph?" Zuko asked, his tone far too sharp to be mistaken for casual.

Katara bit her lip and turned her head away, so it was Aang who answered him. "It must have been when we stopped in Omashu." He gave Zuko a grateful look, clearly happy with the subject change. "That was where we picked up Iroh."

"I thought you came from Ba Sing Se," Zuko said.

"Iroh had gone to visit Toph," Aang said. "He was in Omashu for a week before we arrived."

Before he could press the subject further, his uncle arrived, accompanied by at least ten guards and a very worried looking minister whose name Zuko couldn't remember. "What happened here?" the nameless politician cried, wringing his hands in distress.

Everyone ignored him. Iroh took one look at Zuko and then shook his head. "Aang, please get my nephew to his rooms. I'll take care of this."

* * *

Zuko hadn't thought he was tired until they rounded the corner and left the crime scene behind. Then exhaustion hit him like a wave, almost knocking him down.

His private rooms were in the back of the palace, distant and hard to find, but secure. Unfortunately, it meant a long walk through small, rarely used corridors and up several flights of stairs. Zuko kept most of his concentration devoted to putting one foot in front of the other, with only a tiny sliver of awareness focused on Aang and Katara. They walked just a step or two in front of him, the Avatar on his left and the waterbender on his right. They were supposed to be guarding him, but they had resumed their fight as if he wasn't there.

"I don't understand why you're mad at me!"

"I'm not mad at you!"

"Yes you are!"

"No I'm not!"

"Then why are you yelling?"

"Because you're yelling!"

"Please stop yelling," Zuko interrupted. "It's giving me a headache."

Neither one of them acknowledged his request, but when Aang next spoke his voice was low and intense. "Katara," he said. "I've loved you since I was twelve years old. There's never been anyone else but you."

In the silence, Zuko could practically hear Katara blushing.

"I know that I have . . . fan girls, and there are other women who want to get close to me just because I'm the Avatar. You know—all powerful, well-connected, and with a tragically romantic back story." A crooked smile quirked up one corner of his mouth. "The attention can be flattering, but most of the time it's annoying and I put up with it because I have to. You don't have anything to be jealous of."

Katara stiffened, and the firelord winced. He knew from personal experience that girls never reacted well to being told they were jealous. Sensing that he had made a mistake, Aang's words came out in a nervous rush. "Not that you _were _jealous, or anything! And why would you be? You're so much more beautiful and talented and amazing than any other girl I've ever met!"

Zuko resisted the urge to roll his eyes. _Way to lay it on thick_, he thought. The most powerful bender in four nations had absolutely no pride when it came to his girlfriend. Luckily for him, the over-the-top apology actually seemed to work. The line of her shoulders softened, and a small smile lit her features. "You can stop now," she said lightly. "I'm sure we've embarrassed Zuko enough."

"Oh, it's fine," Zuko said blandly, as if he saw this sort of thing all the time. "Continue pretending I'm not here."

Aang laughed and stepped closer to Katara. He reached for her hand and gave her fingers a squeeze. If Zuko hadn't been expecting something like this, he would have crashed straight through their joined hands. He dropped back a few paces to give them some semblance of privacy, but he still caught Aang's gently spoken words: "I want to spend the rest of my life with you."

"I know," Katara replied. "I want the same thing."

Exhaustion had loosened Zuko's tongue and he spoke without thinking. "Does this mean the two of you are finally getting married?"

* * *

_Toph,_

_I'm sure the news has reached you by now, but don't panic: Katara is fine. Unless you are one of those people who think that marriage is a life sentence. Then you might have a reason to be worried about your friend's sanity, because she is a willing participant in her imprisonment._

_Aang is pretty pleased about the arrangement. I've started bringing up his future father-in-law whenever we see each other, just to wipe that smug grin off his face. He's supposed to be helping me review the terms of the treaty that cover the evacuation of the Fire Nation settlers from the colonies in the Earth Kingdom, but all he can talk about is his upcoming wedding._

_Did you know I'm going to be his best man?_

_I wouldn't be surprised if Sokka is behind the next attempt on my life._

_Firelord Zuko_

**o:o:o**

_Zuko,_

_I know all about the wedding . . . and the peculiar marriage proposal. Katara sent me a very long letter. Ten pages. (Some people are dedicated in their correspondence, while some people only return one letter for every four or five they receive. Can you name anyone in the latter category?) Rest assured, I am being kept very well informed on the topic of the Avatar's wedding plans._

_I also received another letter, this time from Iroh. It seems he won't be returning to the Earth Kingdom anytime soon; his nephew has run into a spot of trouble and needs his help. Something about tracking down assassins? Tell him I said to be careful._

_And that goes for you, too._

_Her Royal Majesty Toph Bei Fong, Queen of Omashu_

* * *

**o:o:o**

* * *

**Note:** Err...hello. Remember me? My Aang x Katara ship sort of exploded in this chapter, so I apologize to everyone who was expecting some Toph x Zuko goodness. Next chapter, I promise! Also, this is unbeta'd, so please point out any errors. To my former beta: I hope you're having a blast in the Netherlands!


	5. Engaged

**Chapter 5 - In Which Toph Receives a Letter from Katara**

* * *

**Note:** I'm an incurable romantic, okay? This chapter doesn't really move the story forward at all, but I wanted to show the proposal scene, and I wanted to do it from Katara's POV. I hope your teeth rot from the sheer, sugary sweetness of it. As usual, please read & review, and if you would be so kind as to point out any errors, I would appreciate it.

* * *

_Dear Toph, _

_You were right to be worried about Zuko. He's thinner, and he uses thick, flowing robes to disguise it. His skin is pale from too much time spent indoors, and his scar only stands out even more against his lighter complexion. I offered, again, to heal it, and he refused, like he always does. But I think if I ask him enough times, he'll eventually say yes. So this is the last time I'll ask. _

_Zuko barely eats and rarely sleeps, so I don't know where he gets his energy from. We arrived just after dawn, yet he was already awake and in his office. He greeted us in the courtyard, and then placed us in the care of the palace staff while he disappeared into a haze of meetings and paperwork. Rude, yes, but we were too busy being waited on hand and foot to chase after him. _

_I'm sure you remember what it's like to deal with persistent servants? The rich food, hot baths, and extra bedding were nice, but it's always a bit strange to turn around and find someone standing at your elbow, waiting for you to give them an order. Thankfully, the staff here is not obsequious, and they don't lurk in shadowy corners. (That's definitely Zuko's influence; I'm sure firing all the slimy suck-ups was one of the first things he did when he moved in!) They're eager and attentive and _bored_. So bored that they organized this elaborate, last minute party in our honor. The music was lovely and the food was amazing, but the security left something to be desired. _

_Take a deep breath before you read the next sentence. Inhale. Exhale. Good? Here's the bad news: someone tried to kill Zuko. _

_They ambushed the two of us in a stone corridor full of marble statues. I didn't have any water on hand, so I had to use blood bending to fight them off. It makes me sick to think about; I threw up afterwards, and I haven't done that since I was fourteen. I don't regret my decision though. I just hope I never have to do it again. _

_Zuko was amazing during the fight. He barely used any bending, and the only weapons he had were two small throwing knives, but he had three of them down in as many minutes. And yet . . . he acted like beating up assassins was something he did on a daily basis. He didn't hesitate to inflict the maximum amount of damage possible. The only reason he didn't go for the kill, he said, was because he needed prisoners for questioning. Honestly, that scares me even more than his poor health. _

_We stopped the assassins, and there's not a scratch on the firelord, but we don't know who sent them. Iroh has placed himself in charge of the investigation, so it looks like he'll be staying here awhile. I know you wanted him to spend some time with Zuko-that's one good thing to come out of this. _

_Now, here's the truly good news: I'm engaged. To Aang, of course. _

_You just said "_Finally!_" didn't you? _

_I'm still a little confused about how it happened. I spent the entire day feeling moody and very annoyed with my boyfriend; a proposal was the last thing I expected. When we arrived at the palace, and everyone was like "Lord Avatar, how is your room? Too hot, too cold? Lord Avatar, may I fluff your pillow? Lord Avatar, would you like some of this fruit? A glass of juice? Lord Avatar, blah blah blah." _

_The attention was irritating, but I managed to remain calm (mostly). And then we got to the party and noble ladies took the place of the servants. They surrounded Aang, showering him with inane compliments (Can you imagine someone cooing "Oh, Lord Avatar, you're so strong and powerful," without gagging?) and requests for tales of his adventures. I was disgusted after five minutes, but you know how Aang enjoys the hero worship. I left him to find Zuko and, long story short, that's when we ran into the assassins. _

_Aang was the first person to arrive after the attack. It's very embarrassing to admit, but I _yelled _at him. He looked so worried, but I was feeling sick and scared and shouting at him was a convenient distraction. Aang hates any type of conflict, and he especially hates fighting with me. __He always tries to end an argument as soon as it starts, so I think he must have realized that I was just releasing leftover adrenaline and stress; otherwise our fight never would have lasted so long. Somehow, __we managed to find something to squabble about for at least ten minutes. _

_Zuko witnessed the entire thing. He kept quiet until the very last bit, where Aang apologized and I let him. Out of the blue, he asked, "Does this mean the two of you are getting married?" _

_I stuttered, stumbled, and nearly went into shock. But you know what? My instinctive answer wasn't _No._ It was more like, _well, yes, eventually.

_When I looked at Aang, expecting him to be equally stunned, he was . . . resigned. He wanted me to say yes, but was anticipating that I would refuse. _

_And that revelation distressed me even more. _

_"I'll take that as a no?" Aang said, trying to make a joke out of the whole thing. His smile was huge and fake. He let go of my hand. _

_"No, I mean, no, it's not—well, what was the question?" I asked, thoughts flying in and out of my head like they were caught in a windstorm. The last thing I wanted to do was disappoint Aang. He does so much—for everyone, not just me—and he asks for so little in return. I wanted to reach for him, to curl up in his lap and reassure him that I loved him and that yes, I wanted to spend the rest of my life with him, and if it meant getting married then sure, why not?_

_"Huh?" Aang looks adorable when he's confused. _

_Surprisingly, it only took me about thirty seconds to make up my mind. "If I'm going to marry you, I expect a proper proposal." _

_One of the many reasons I love Aang: he's quick on the uptake. He knelt, took my hands, looked into my eyes, and asked me to marry him. No long speech, just my name and those four words, his voice so intense it sent shivers down my spine. _

_I said yes, of course. I may have screeched it in an excited, high-pitched voice, but I will never admit to it. And I may have cried when Aang gave me my betrothal necklace. He's been carrying it around for a year. The pendant is the same design as the necklace he made me when we were fugitives in the Fire Nation, except that it's made of gold and it hangs on a chain, so I can still wear my mother's choker. Isn't that thoughtful of him? _

_Now I've got a wedding to plan. I would love to have a quiet ceremony on a deserted island, but Aang is the Avatar, I'm a respected leader of the Water Tribe, and our best friends are royalty. Everyone in the four nations is going to expect a huge celebration, maybe even an international holiday. It's going to take boatloads of planning and negotiating and compromising just to figure out where the ceremony will be held. The North Pole or the South? Zuko has offered his palace, but the Earth Kingdom may revolt if we hold it there. _

_Any suggestions? You're going to be a bridesmaid whether you like it or not. I'm not offering you the position; you've just been drafted! I need you. You are the only person I know who will happily punch me in the face when I get too crazy about the wedding. _

_Please, don't let me become a bridezilla! _

_Always, _

_Katara _

_P.S. Aang says hello, Appa sends his love, and Momo misses you very much._

_P.P.S. I'll keep an eye on Zuko for you, but you should really come visit him yourself. He misses you too. _

* * *

"That," Toph said, "was a very long letter." Despite the wry comment, there was a huge grin on her face as she spoke. "Read it again."

* * *

******o:o:o**


	6. Wedding Plans

**Chapter 6 **

* * *

_Katara,_

_How is the wedding planning going? Have you decided on a location yet? Most of my advisers think I should push for the wedding to be held here. It would do wonders for tourism, but I don't think we're close enough to the nearest port. All the guests from the waterbending tribes would have to be escorted inland from the coast, and organizing the logistics of that would be a hassle. Still, my minions think it can be done. The Minister of Trade and the Mayor of Omashu even collaborated on a proposal. I'll attach it to this letter. _

_Let me know what I can do to help! _

_Toph_

**::o:x:o::**

_Toph, _

_ARRRGGGHHHHHHHH!_

_Why are men so useless?_

_Katara_

* * *

The queen's secretary cleared her throat and began tidying a stack of paperwork. At this signal, servants swept inwards from the corners of the room and began clearing away the breakfast dishes. Toph's bowl of fruit was whisked away and a hot towel put in its place. She heard the quiet splash of jasmine tea hitting porcelain and reached unerringly for the cup. A deep breath of fragrant steam, and she smiled.

Toph sipped her tea, savoring what were no doubt the last moments of peace she would have for the rest of the day. In just a few minutes, she would dive head first into a whirlwind of meetings and audiences and appearances. Being queen was . . .restrictive - every hour of every day meticulously planned - but it wasn't boring. There were politicians to frustrate and complex letters to compose, schemes within schemes and layers of meaning hidden by exquisite formalities. There were important decisions to make. Surprise fluttered in Toph's stomach, as it always did when she contemplated just how much her idea of fun had changed in the past four years.

The main clock struck the hour. Even if Toph couldn't hear the bells echoing down the hallways, she would have felt the ponderous vibrations spreading through the palace floors, rising and falling like water. She started to stand, only to feel Lien's hand on her arm, keeping her in the chair. "This came for you from the Avatar," she said, passing over a small tablet.

Toph grasped it with both hands, her fingers fanning over raised characters etched into the stone. It took her a moment to translate the shapes she felt beneath her callused fingertips into words, but eventually she deciphered the message: _You are cordially invited . . ._

"Cute." Aang had gotten rather good at crafting delicate, pretty things over the last few years, and the evidence was there in her hands: wind and waves and lotus blossoms, all perfectly rendered and set with colored crystals. He probably spent too much time making gifts to give Katara, but she had agreed to marry him, so all that work had paid off. Toph smirked. "This will make a nice desk ornament."

The invitation was smooth, porous stone, only slightly larger than her cupped palms. It might have appeared sturdy and official, but its thinness made it unexpectedly fragile, easy to chip or crack. Paper would have been more practical, if not as pretty. But if what Toph had heard about brides was true, during the wedding planning phase they lost all commonsense and became obsessed with aesthetics, so doing something ridiculous like hiring earthbenders to carve stone plaques instead of making do with the traditional calligraphy and scroll arrangement was totally acceptable. "They forgot to include the address," Toph noticed, brow wrinkling in confusion. "Think it's too late to stop Katara from mailing these out?"

"It appears that they have left some empty space at the bottom for that information to be added. Perhaps this is just a draft? Lady Katara has said that she wants your input regarding the wedding details."

Toph grunted, clearly not pleased with that reminder. "Kind of stupid to be discussing colors and flowers with someone who can't see," she said matter-of-factly. "But I guess I could help make them if I had something to copy. How many of these do you think she'll need?" To achieve that level of detail, she would have to concentrate extremely hard, forming each invitation one at a time. The migraine it would cause . . .

"Probably a few hundred."

"You know what?" Toph asked after a few moments of painful contemplation, "I'm the queen of a city of earthbenders. I don't actually have to make these all myself! I'll order some of my minions to take care of it!"

* * *

_Toph,_

_[Help!]_

_Katara is driving everyone crazy. It's all color schemes and floral arrangements and what dish served when, where, and why. That blissful expression Aang used to wander around wearing has morphed into a glassy-eyed look of terror. Even my uncle tenses up whenever he sees Katara rounding the corner. The only good thing to come out of this is that all my ministers are completely cowed by her. When she's in the room during a meeting things tend to run a lot more smoothly, if you can ignore the sounds of everyone's knees knocking. _

_Now she's hounding me about drafting the best man's speech? I never signed on for a public speaking engagement!_

_Zuko_

**::o:x:o::**

_Zuko,_

_Here's some advice, from a professional, experienced woman to a pathetic, confused young man._

_Whatever she asks for, give in. But in order to avoid the appearance of being a spineless weasel, you should avoid her whenever you can. You have flunkeys, lackeys, hangers-on, and/or minions, don't you? Throw them in her path like sacrificial lambs and order them to cater to her every whim. Better them than you._

_You would do well to follow this wisdom when it comes to dealing with any woman in your life._

_Toph_

**::o:x:o::**

_Toph, _

_That's the worse advice I've ever heard. _

_Zuko_

_P.S. But it made me laugh. So thanks for that._

_P.P.S. You did not just refer to yourself as a "professional, experienced woman." What does that even mean?_


	7. Shenanigans in Omashu

**Chapter 7**

* * *

_Toph,_

_So, any ideas what to gift the newlyweds? I was thinking I could have Appa's saddle refitted. Or camping gear. Something useful like that._

_Zuko_

******:o:o:o:**

_Zuko,_

_. . . You are such a guy._

_Toph_

**:o:o:o:**

_Toph,_

_Why do girls keep telling me that?_

_Zuko_

**:o:o:o:**

"There's another message written on the back of this note from the firelord."

The queen didn't bother to look up from her breakfast, most of her concentration devoted to peeling an orange. "What, is the Fire Nation so broke that he's writing to me on scrap paper now?"

Toph caught the huff of breath that might have been a laugh, followed by the sound of Lien clearing her throat. "The wax seal on the scroll was different from the one that the firelord typically uses," she said seriously, as if the past ten seconds had never happened.

"Hmm." The sharp, sweet scent of citrus filled the air as Toph opened her orange. She popped a slice in her mouth, chewing slowly as she thought. "What was the symbol on this seal?"

"A lotus blossom."

Old memories stirred in the back of Toph's mind. The shuffle of Pai Sho tiles. An eight petal flower carved onto a wooden disc. The fragrance of tea, and Iroh's soothing, gravelly voice. "What did the old man want?" she asked affectionately.

"Information," Lien answered. "To help with an investigation."

* * *

**:o:o:o:**

* * *

The early days of the queen's rule were a never ending swamp of meetings and audiences and meetings and luncheons and meetings and state dinners and meetings. Her younger self would have been bothered by it, but Toph had spent enough years following Aang around that she was at least somewhat familiar with the ills of bureaucracy, and she knew that she had a lot to learn if she was going to run the province properly. She didn't set foot outside of the palace grounds for two full months after she assumed the throne, yet she was so _busy_ that this didn't strike her as odd. People came to see her, not the other way around.

She didn't realize something was wrong until the first time she tried to leave the palace.

And they wouldn't _let _her.

A stoic, broad shouldered guard stopped her at the gatehouse. With downcast eyes and a respectful tone, he explained to her that it would take half an hour to assemble a decent amount of men for her escort. He hesitated, and then, his voice even more exquisitely polite, he told her that there had been no notice that she was to be leaving the palace today, and had she cleared her movements with the advisory council?

The poor man didn't even see it coming. Toph hadn't meant to blast him into a wall, but the stupidity of it all sent her into a raging temper. Bumi had handpicked her to be his successor because she was the World's Greatest Earthbender! She was one of the most powerful, capable people on the entire _planet! _But apparently all it took to cancel out her accomplishments was to stick a tiara on her head. Then she devolved into just another girl to be protected.

"Screw this," Toph spat. Then she stamped her foot and let the ground swallow her.

She descended past basements and wine cellars and dungeons (The palace had dungeons? Why had no one told her this?), until she hit a cave. A perfectly beautiful cave, all stalactites and crystals and underground pools. Just the sort that everyone pictured whenever a storyteller told them to close their eyes and imagine . . . (It was something that happened fairly often, if you were the type of person who listened to storytellers. Quite a lot of Earth Kingdom tales were set in caves.)

Toph wandered for awhile, getting to know the underworld of the realm she now ruled. To her delight, the earth below the city was riddled with abandoned badgermole tunnels and more of these natural caves, a vast network of crisscrossing space and stone. Men came down, searching for her, but she was truly in her element here, and she tricked and trapped and avoided them, as easily as breathing.

In a cavern beneath the Market District, she discovered a cache of goods: jewelry and carved stone, all packed up and awaiting transportation. If she had to guess their source, she would have said that they had been looted from the museums during the city's brief occupation by the Fire Nation. A thick layer of dust and dirt lay over the boxes, and a peculiar smell hung in the air. Toph poked about in a corner of the room and discovered the source, some barrels of rotting fruit and molding sacks of rice. She shook her head and wiped her sticky hands on her robes. The presence of perishables told her that whoever had hoarded all this stuff wasn't going to come back. They had probably died in the war, leaving their loot behind to gather dust in the dark.

Toph sighed, her desire to explore suddenly gone. She marked the location of the site in her memory and began to make her way towards the surface.

**:o:o:o:**

Above her head flowed a constant stream of foot traffic, the vibrations of each individual cart, animal, and person bleeding into one another until all she could sense was a steady rumble. Toph searched for a break in traffic, and she found it: a small, square space miraculously free of movement. Shifting aside a block of earth, she catapulted above ground, upending a wagon of cabbage in the process.

"Sorry," she apologized, shaking dirt from her robes.

"You-me-wha-my-my-cabbages!" a man - presumably the owner of the cabbages - wailed.

Toph cringed at his earsplitting pitch and barely stopped herself from disappearing back down into the dark. She interrupted his breakdown with an imperious wave. "Send the bill to the palace," she ordered.

A startled look flashing across the merchant's face, but Toph continued to stare just past his shoulder, her own expression arrogant and unaware. He leaned forward to peer into her face, only to jump backwards, stumbling over his spilled merchandise. Toph knew the exact moment he realized who she was: his heart had started beating double time. "Yo-your majesty?" the merchant stuttered.

"Good day," she replied, perfectly serene. "Do you know if there are any decent teahouses nearby?"

******:o:o:o:**

At the cabbage merchant's recommendation, Toph waited for her guards in The Subtle Bloom, an unassuming restaurant at the end of a narrow path. Her sudden reappearance was sure to attract the attention of the Royal Guard, and she had no doubt that they would soon come for her.

The proprietress didn't seem at all surprised to see the queen of Omashu walk through her door. Toph was seated at the rear of the small, quiet shop, a shoji screen discretely shifted for her privacy. She ordered a pot of jasmine tea and made herself comfortable. Their leaf blend wasn't as good as Iroh's, but they served tiny puff pastries and delicate slivers of sandwiches in combinations she had never seen before.

Toph managed to eat an entire platter of snacks before a group of guards arrived. She recognized them by their distinctive march and the rattle of their armor. They stood silent and tense on the other side of the screen, at least half of them braced for a fight. The small signs of distrust made her wince, but she supposed she deserved it-she had sent one of their comrades flying, and trapped a large number of them in underground tunnels. Toph allowed herself one small sigh before shoving her guilt aside. Chin held high, she kept them waiting long enough to finish her pot of tea, knowing that they could see her silhouette as she poured a new cup.

Finally, with a gracious nod to her hostess, she swept right past the men in uniform, taking it for granted that they would follow. The palace was a good distance away, but she chose the long way back, walking instead of being carried in a sedan chair or catching a ride on the city's famous delivery system. The soldiers kept close, surrounding her in a loose circle. She would have been much less conspicuous if they were behind her - or if they weren't there at all - but she endured their presence because she felt slightly guilty for her earlier behavior. They had only been following orders. If she had thought it through, she could have _changed_ those orders. She was the queen after all, the highest authority in Omashu. But she had flashbacked to her childhood, a time when she was invisible and imprisoned. She had run away, letting her memory control her muscles, and the realization made her burn with shame.

"Queen Toph!" a young voice called.

Said queen jerked her head up, surfacing from her thoughts. She stopped abruptly and caused a minor traffic jam. No one had recognized her until that moment, since generally no one expected the reigning monarch to be wandering about the city barefoot, with scraggly hair and muddy robes. The kid must have noticed the uniform of the Royal Guard, which was slightly distinct from the City Guard, and made the connection when he saw them surrounding a woman young enough and short enough to be the queen.

"Yes?"

"Oh, err, nothing, your majesty," the child mumbled. "H-have a good day."

Toph smiled in the direction of the voice, nodding her head slightly in acknowledgement. "You too."

By the time she reached the palace gates, she was actually grateful for her guards. Once they had confirmation that the dusty girl in green actually was the queen of Omashu, people had crowded around her, anxious for a good look. They called out greetings and wishes for her good health, and even a few compliments that almost had her blushing. Sometimes the stall owners they passed offered her free samples of whatever they were selling-fruit or jewelry or some sort of meat on a stick. Whatever she didn't swallow she gave to her guards, to eat or carry. They waited patiently while she stopped to chat or sign autographs, and for that Toph was grateful. It wouldn't do for the public to see their queen hustled off like a criminal, a burly escort on either side.

At first, Toph kept her expression carefully controlled, regal and distant, but when they finally reached the top of the last hill, her cheeks ached from smiling so much. She had been famous since she was twelve, but she had never realized that she was _popular._ It was . . . nice. She resolved to mingle with her people more often.

******:o:o:o:**

Of course, her advisors had other ideas. They were waiting for her in the blue room, a wall of angry, disapproving men and women who immediately lit into her for running off without telling them where she was going. It was like having three sets of overly strict parents scolding her all at once. Toph blinked, temporarily overwhelmed.

"Enough!" she shouted, recovering quickly. She stalked past them towards her desk, the floor rumbling with every step. Dust trickled loose from the corners of the ceiling like confetti. "I'm your queen, not your teenage daughter."

"Thank god," Lord Kung muttered.

Toph arched a brow, letting him know that she had heard his snide remark. "I know that my sudden disappearance was unexpected, but I'm sure King Bumi was a lot worse."

"Bumi was also much older than you when he became king, and by that point in his life he already had a reputation for, ah, odd eccentricities, in addition to great power. He had no need of a guard."

"I assure you, I am just as oddly eccentric as King Bumi!" Toph exclaimed. She paused, thought over her words, and then firmly nodded her head. "And I may be young, but I've been the most powerful bender in the Earth Kingdom since the age of twelve. I do not need a guard!"

"Yes you do!" Lady Gao insisted. "No matter what your skills, you are a vulnerable young woman. All it would take is one archer on a rooftop and you would be dead. If you were in a busy crowd you wouldn't be able to see the arrow even if it came at you head on!"

Toph paused, considering that scenario. Although highly unlikely, it wasn't outside the realm of possibility. "That isn't completely impossible," she acknowledged grudgingly. "But you can't keep me cooped up like, like . . ." In a sudden flash of inspiration, she realized what they had been trying to do. "Like the Earth King of Ba Sing Se! I refuse to be made into a powerless ornament. I will not allow my court to become the awful pit of backstabbing leeches that the Imperial Court was. I will not let you manipulate me just because I am sixteen. The Avatar is sixteen, and he's done more in four years than all of you have in your combined lifetimes!" By the end of her rant she was on her feet, red-faced from yelling, nails digging crescent moons into her palms.

Toph took a deep breath, letting it out slowly. Thinking of Aang also made her remember the few words of advice he had passed on at her coronation: "Try not to lose your temper. And never be unwilling to compromise."

As far as she was concerned, compromising meant finding a way to make both parties equally miserable. _It wasn't fair _-Toph derailed that train of thought and crashed it into a bluff. Only children and idiots complained about fairness.

She counted to ten and unclenched her fists. In a much calmer tone of voice, she said, "You are my advisors, not my keepers. You tell me your thoughts, but I make the final decisions." She turned her head towards the woman who had just spoken. "Lady Gao, you bring up a good point, one I hadn't considered. I will take an escort with me when I leave the palace - the men I had with me today will serve nicely, and five is a good number."

Sensing that Lord Kung was about to speak, she held up a hand. "_But_. I reserve the right to come and go as I please. It is the right you would grant to any able-bodied adult, and I am an adult. And it occurs to me that if my every trip through the gates was scheduled ten days in advance, it would be that much easier for an assassin to make plans."

After another slow breath, Toph asked, "Is there anything else that needs to be said?"

Lord Tang had remained silent and unmoving during her entire speech. He shifted his weight, drawing her attention. She felt him nod, a sign of approval. "The Fire Nation ambassador has been requesting an audience . . ."

* * *

**:o:o:o:**

* * *

It was mid-morning on the second day of the week when Toph entered The Subtle Bloom and claimed her usual table near the back. Her bodyguards had already performed a quick search, verifying that the rooms were empty aside from the staff. As per Toph's orders, they waited outside, taking up stations near the door and at various points along the steep, cobbled lane. The tea house could only fit ten people at a time, and in such close quarters, her guards tended to make people nervous. They hadn't been happy the first time she insisted that they wait outside, but Toph never lost a staring contest, and after a tense confrontation they had grudgingly given in to her demands. After all these months, it had simply become part of the routine.

The waitress's smile was steady during the whole process; she had served the queen often enough, and was used to the fuss. She had a pot of jasmine tea ready by the time Toph was seated. Thank you," she murmured, accepting a cup.

"Can I get you anything else, your majesty?"

"Yes, actually." Something a lot like doubt flickered across Toph's expression, but it was quickly chased away by stubbornness. "Leila," she said, and the girl's eyes widened at the use of her first name. "Is there another exit in the back?"

"Ah, yes, your majesty," she replied. "It's just a narrow alley, though, and it's all fenced in. There's no way out except the drain. "

"Good," Toph said. "I need to leave here unseen. Can you help me?"

"Are you joking?" she blurted out after a minute of stunned silence.

"I'm one-hundred percent serious, Leila."

"Are you sure?" the waitress asked, her voice faint.

"Quite," the queen said between sips of tea.

"If I-" she bit her lip, hesitating. "Will your guards be punished if I let you go?" she managed to ask, her voice trailing into a whisper on the last word.

Toph hid a smile. It was a a running joke among her guardsmen that Rei, the youngest of them, was head over heels in love with Leila. Everyone assumed that his infatuation was one-sided, but maybe the quiet waitress actually shared his feelings? Toph quickly revised her strategy.

"Not a chance," she said. "If all goes according to plan, I'll be back soon and no one else will ever know I was gone." She tried to smile reassuringly, but she must have gotten the expression wrong because still Leila hesitated.

"If I help you and something happens, I'll lose my job," she said.

"Nothing is going to happen to me," she said, projecting every ounce of confidence she possessed into her voice. "World's Greatest Earthbender, remember?" She heaved a dramatic sigh. "Don't make me bribe you, because I will."

Leila exhaled sharply, an indignant gasp of breath. "I won't take your money!"

"Of course not," Toph replied. "I wasn't going to offer you any." Taking the silence as a signal to continue, she said, "But I can guarantee that Rei gets the night of the Lovers' Festival off," Toph paused, and then mentally shrugged. In for a penny, in for a pound. "And the morning after, too."

"Oh," Leila murmured, a deep blush staining her cheeks.

Oh, indeed. Toph _had _her, and they both knew it. But she kept quiet, giving her the space to think it over.

"What do you need me to do?" she asked, voice pitched low.

"Three things," Toph said, already taking down her bun. "First and most obvious, don't let anyone take my spot. Stop by the table, pretend to ask me if I need anything, whatever, just keep up the illusion that there's a customer back here, even if there aren't any other people in the store. You never know who might be listening. Second, I'll need an old apron. Third, in about an hour, Rei is going to pop his head in here to check on me. When he does, you need to distract him. Don't let him set foot past the doorway. Tell him that I'm fine, but I don't want to be disturbed."

Leila's eyes were a bit wild after that information dump, but she nodded in understanding. "Let me get you my spare apron."

Alone behind the carved shoji screen, Toph stood, thin fingers rapidly picking apart the knot of her sash. She shrugged out of the heavily embroidered garment, revealing the thin tunic and leggings she wore underneath. Some rebellious part of her mind wanted to leave the robe in a puddle on the floor, but that might cause wrinkles and she still had to wear it later. With a sigh, she draped the robe over a chair, her jeweled headband tucked into one of its pockets. After a moment's thought she kicked off her thin soled slippers and stretched, wriggling her bare toes.

"Queen Toph?"

She turned, shaking long strands of hair into her eyes. "I'm ready."

******:o:o:o:**

The alley behind The Subtle Bloom was even tinier than Leila had implied. When Toph stretched out an arm, her fingertips brushed against a solid wall of earth - the base of the hill that supported the residential district one level up. From this vantage point, no doubt it appeared massive and impenetrable. Yet appearances were almost always deceiving; this hill and all the others that made up the city of Omashu were practically hollow, infested with tunnels like a worm-ridden apple.

Toph drew her attention downward, where a damp drain gurgled erratically next to her feet. Drains meant sewers, and the strongest waterproof pipes in the world couldn't contain the smell. Her nose wrinkled at the thought. She wanted to linger out here in the relatively clean air, but she was on a time limit and had to keep moving.

******:o:o:o:**

The maintenance tunnels ran parallel to the sewer system, tight, narrow shafts tucked alonside the wider concrete pipes. Toph could just barely fit; she had to move in an awkward shuffle, her back occasionally brushing against roughly cut limestone.

Each tunnel was marked, the numbers scored deeply along the sides and traced in bright paint. Toph kept one hand on the wall, feeling for these signposts. A carefully memorized chant repeated in her head:_branch 301 to intersection 296 to branch 593. . _. She had spent months studying the sprawling layout of these tunnels, learning which numbers corresponded to different parts of the city. Before today the blueprints had existed as a chain of words read out in Lien's voice, but as her feet made sense of the spaces above and below her, she was finally able to add these details to the diagram of Omashu she carried in her head.

She reached another crossroads, but instead of going left or right she moved _down_, pushing past limestone to fall through the ceiling of the cavern she knew would be directly beneath her. Her grasping hands caught hold of a stalactite. It stretched as she pulled at it with her bending, turning it into a rope that brought her safely to the ground.

Some people were useless this far down under the earth, paralyzed by fear of the dark, but Toph was at home here, her wits sharper than ever. It only took a moment for three seperate maps depicting three separate layers of the city to come together in her mind. Within seconds, she had pinpointed her location: a few hundred feet below Hightower street in the Diamond Quarter, one of the most expensive neighborhoods in Omashu.

The only way out of the cave was what appeared to be an old badgermole tunnel. Toph followed the path, carried by a wave of stone that moved much faster than she could run. As the gentle incline turned into a steep grade, she pushed more power into the earth, increasing her speed.

When the ground evened out she was less than fifteen feet below street level. The rich were big on indoor plumbing and outdoor waterworks, and the pipes needed to carry the water rested very close to the surface. Some of them were made of metal, which only intensified the resonating rush of moving liquid. At this depth the sound was a slow, steady hum in her ears.

Distracted, she almost missed the man trying to hide in the alcove off to the right. A stack of crates kept him from view, but it wasn't like she had eyes to see anyway, and it was his human heartbeat that gave him away - too fast to be stone, too slow to be water. Toph skidded to a stop, sending up a plume of dust that coated everything, including him, this would-be smuggler. He sneezed, and she had him, one of life's little jokes.

"You can come out of hiding," she called, a mocking challenge.

She heard the scrape of shifting boxes and the creak of his leather boots as he rose, but he didn't take her bait. "Who are you?" he asked. Any chance she might have been intimidated by him disappeared when his voice cracked into a thin whine on the last word.

"Someone who has a legal right to be here," she snapped back, even though she wanted to tell him to run on home and play with his toys. "Can the same be said for you?"

He didn't answer, and she felt him taking slow steps backwards, muscles tensing as his fight or flight instincts tilted in favor of the latter. She would have preferred to let him run off so that she could have a look at the crates in peace, but for the sake of thoroughness, she blocked his escape.

Toph shifted her weight and he sank into stone, trapped up to the waist with his hands pinned at his side. His pulse picked up as she approached. "Smuggling is illegal in Omashu," she told him, her tone implying that she knew everything about him, including his embarrassing middle name and how many times he had wet the bed last year.

Really, she was just fishing for a reaction. But it wasn't a bad guess. Omashu had complete control over one of the only safe routes through the Kolau mountains, and trade was the lifeblood of the city. After her escape into the tunnels earlier in the year, it had occured to her that these labyrinthine passages would be the perfect haven for smugglers and other criminals. This hapless fellow didn't strike her as that type, but he seemed useless enough to get mixed up in something foolish.

"Hold on, wait, this isn't what it looks like!" he cried out. If his hands were free, they would have been above his head.

Toph rolled her eyes in disbelief, hands on her hips. "Oh, really?"

"Some guy hired me to come down these tunnels and see if there was anything in here. He wanted an earthbender in case it wasn't safe. I'm not involved in any smuggling! I swear! He even had a key to the gate!"

"You're an earthbender?" Toph asked derisively. "Geez, grow a pair."

"I didn't want to harm anything in these crates, or risk bringing down the tunnel on our heads. And then I saw that you were just a girl . . ."

She snorted. Just for that remark, Toph decided to leave him buried for awhile.

******:o:o:o:**

The tunnel ended at a solid wall of rock. She could make a path through it, but she seriously doubted that junior over there was anywhere near the level of skill required for such a technique. He'd probably forget to factor in the need for air and suffocate to death.

He must have come another way. Toph closed her eyes, a useless gesture, but it helped her think. Overhead was a thin layer of limestone, and then damp, crumbly dirt, neatly divided by a grid of metal pipes. Someone's garden, complete with a fountain, and maybe a sprinkler system? The invention was an utter waste of resources, but sprawling green lawns are rare in mountain ranges, so of course they were all the rage in the Diamond Quarter.

She finally discovered the entrance because it didn't belong. What need was there for a twelve-foot shaft of steel buried in the earth? She almost mistook it for another pipe, except for the fact that it didn't connect to any of the others. As far as she could tell it began at the surface and ended. . . _here._ Her hands found a jagged lip of metal hidden by a strategically placed pile of rubble. Toph shook her head in admiration. Any other earthbender would have completely overlooked it. They were trained to ignore metal. If the outside entrance was disguised to look like a water tank or something, no one would have given it a second glance.

The chute was too steep and slippery to climb using muscle power alone, so she looked for and found some shallow depressions in the metal. She supposed that they were handholds.

Toph frowned, but up she went, half of her attention focused on the climb and the other half trying to determine what could be waiting for her at the top. She sensed one human heart beat - slow and steady - and deep, even breathing. She came up with three possible explantion for her observations: the person was a zen master, or he was meditating, or he was sleeping.

It turned out to be the third. She could tell by the snore.

The very familiar snore.

Just to make sure, Toph creeped up behind him and tugged on his pony tail. The startled yell confirmed his identity.

"Hey, Snoozles."

******:o:o:o:**

"Let me get this straight. Some weird guy hired you to sneak into _my_ city and "retrieve" some items from a secret tunnel, and you didn't think it was the least bit suspicious?" Toph rewarded his stupidity by punching him on the shoulder. Hard.

"Ow!" He yelped, rubbing the sore spot. "Cut it out! It wasn't like that. A merchant friend from Ba Sing Se approached me on behalf of _his_ friend. The story goes that this guy was selling off some property in Omashu, but he had left some possessions behind when he moved out and needed someone to pick them up."

Toph snorted and began walking faster. She had twenty minutes to get back to the tea house. Sokka's hired goon had been easily dealt with, yet she hadn't been able to get rid of the man himself. She had tried to tell him that they should meet up later, but he had insisted on accompanying her back to The Subtle Bloom. After a few token protests, she had stopped arguing and started walking. Sokka and Suki were more or less married, but she still had a soft spot for Captain Boomerang, even if he had ditched said implement in favor of a sharp, pointy thing made for stabbing people. Besides, she hadn't seen him since her coronation last year. His company was so far proving to be just as frustrating and amusing as she remembered.

Sokka lengthened his stride, catching up to her easily as he continued his explanation. "I thought it was completely legit. I've known Chang for years, and I trusted him to put together a good deal. They paid me half up front, and gave me very detailed instructions and a key to the garden gate. And the house really is empty. I went up front and rang the doorbell, just to be sure."

Toph wrestled with the urge to punch him again. "The only people who build these kind of secret hidey holes are either crazy or guilty of something."

Sokka shrugged. "Or they're just rich," he suggested. "One thing I've learned these past few years is that people with money are really, really weird."

"Yeah, usually because they're plotting something! Do you know who really owns that house? Lord Ziyang, the former ambassador from the Fire Nation. The one Zuko-"

"Fired?" Sokka finished, elbowing her in the ribs as he grinned at his imagined cleverness.

Toph glared and held up a fist in warning. "I had my agents search every inch of his rooms at the embassy, and guess what they found?"

"A lot of ash?"

Toph nodded. "We didn't even know he had bought this property until the tax people noticed the missed payments and came around to collect. When they saw it was empty, they did a little digging and traced the purchase back to the ambassador."

"And you're here to investigate?" The gleeful tone in his voice had her thinking that he'd pulled out his "detective" costume, the one with the hat and the magnifying glass. "What exactly are you looking for?"

Toph hesitated, unsure of how she should answer that question. She settled on the truth. "I don't really know. Anything suspicious."

"I suppose a pile of crates hidden away in a secret underground room would definitely fit into that category." His deadpan delivery made Toph laugh. "But we looked inside a couple of them. They're just . . . jars."

"Vases," she corrected him. " From the Ming Dynasty. The quality is flawless. They're worth a fortune. If I had to guess, I would say they were actually moved there within the last few weeks, as payment for services rendered."

"And I was supposed to deliver it," Sokka muttered angrily. He clearly did not like the thought of being a pawn in someone else's game. "Payment for what?"

"It could be anything," Toph said. "But all my theories involve illegal things. Smuggling. Selling state secrets - the Fire Nation's or the Earth Kingdom's." She paused and took a deep breath. "Assassinating the firelord."

"You think-"

She cut him off. "I don't know. But Iroh is back in the Fire Nation trying to put a stop to all the attempts on Zuko's life, and he specifically asked me for information on Ziyang."

"And two and two make four." Sokka shook his head. "I thought Chang was a good guy, but he did lose a lot of family during the war."

"We've all sacrificed something," Toph snapped. "That doesn't mean you should throw assassins at the one person trying to make everything better."

"Wait, who's trying to kill Aang?"

Toph gave in to temptation and punched him again. "I was talking about Zuko."

"Oh, right." Sokka laughed awkwardly. "Him too."

******:o:o:o:**

They left behind the opulent splendor of the Diamond Quarter and descended into the controlled chaos of the Market District. As soon as they had joined the crowd, Toph took off at a sprint. Messengers and errand boys were always dodging every which way in this part of the city, and despite her dirty clothes she blended right in. Sokka, on the other hand, drew far too much attention. He had grown tall over the past few years, and he looked like he knew how to use the sword he wore at his waist. She tried to keep ahead of him, hoping that no one would think they were traveling together.

A few blocks away from The Subtle Bloom, Toph ducked into an empty doorway and took a moment to clean up her appearance. She shook the dust out of her hair and clothes, and then tied on Leila's apron, hoping it covered up any stains. Sokka watched her preparations with curiousity, one hand resting on the hilt of his sword. That was a new habit, and she wondered when he had picked it up. "Why can't you just walk right past them? They're your servants, aren't they?"

"Yes, and they're supposed to keep me safe," she said. "They can't do that if I wander off whenever I feel like it."

"But that's their fault for not keeping a better eye on you," he pointed out.

Toph bit her lip. "Maybe. They'll still be punished by their captain if he finds out that I slipped past them. I could order them to lie for me, but I wouldn't betray their trust like that. And besides," she continued, her voice softening unconsciously, "I promised the waitress at the teahouse that I wouldn't let that happen."

She almost jumped out of her skin when Sokka came closer and began combing his fingers through her bangs. "What are you doing?" she hissed, seconds away from punching him in the stomach.

He chuckled. "I'm helping you. I'm a master of disguise, remember?" His arms encircled her as he retied her apron. Toph stood completely still and tried not to breathe too loudly. "Come on," he said, reaching for her hand. "You've got less than three minutes."

Toph followed mutely, most of her attention on their joined hands. Three years ago she would have been blushing hot enough to boil water, and yet . . . she flexed her fingers experimentally. Sokka squeezed her hand, the pressure warm and reassuring and utterly platonic.

"I see one of your guards," he whispered. "Keep your head down, and your face turned towards me. I just have to get you through the doors, right? There won't be anyone inside?"

"No," she whispered back.

He let go of her hand, only to wrap an arm around her shoulders, pulling her close. Toph stifled a gasp, but after the initial surprise had passed she relaxed enough to slip an arm around his waist and grip the fabric of his loose shirt. She kept her head down and concentrated on matching her pace to his.

"Stairs" he murmured. It was an unnecessary warning; Toph had this path memorized.

They strolled right past Rei and into the dim coolness of the shop. Sokka tensed, his fingers digging into her shoulder as they heard the sounds of someone approaching. A bright voice, cheerful and familiar asked, "How may I help-oh!"

Toph stepped away from Sokka, a mischievous grin on her face. "Am I late?"

* * *

**x**

* * *

**A/N:** A lot of stuff is thrown at you guys in this chapter, so let me know if it's too confusing. Please R&R! I do take constructive criticism into account and will try to fix any issues you guys raise.


	8. Scatterbrained

_Toph,_

_._

_._

_._

_._

**o:o:o**

"What do you mean it's blank?" Toph pinched the thin roll of parchment between her fingers and held it centimeters from her face, as if she could make words appear through sheer force of will. Something twanged in her chest, sharp and surprising like a bowstring snapping against bare skin. Disappointment, she told herself. She looked forward to Zuko's notes, which had become rarer in the past few months. This was the first private message he had sent in two weeks and it was _blank. _

She drew in a deep breath but her nose, as sensitive as it was, could not detect anything out of place. "Have you tested it for—I don't know, some sort of invisible ink?"

"All your messages are tested for chemical substances before they reach you, your majesty," Lien replied calmly. "The process includes heat exposure, which would have revealed the hidden text."

"Or destroyed it."

"Possible," she acknowledged, "But only slightly. There's a higher chance that the scroll was tampered with."

"Then they would have seized the message and killed the hawk, or they would have changed it. Why would someone send a piece of paper that says nothing but my name?" Toph scowled and kicked at the table, pushing her chair back so that she could stand. "I think he must have gotten his scrolls mixed up."

"The firelord has many reasons to be distracted," Lien replied soothingly, her tone that of someone speaking to a child in the midst of a temper tantrum.

Toph grumbled, but her annoyance had abated somewhat. "And the fact that he's an idiot probably doesn't help things very much."


	9. A Weak Attempt at Intrigue

**Chapter 8 **

* * *

_Toph,_

_People are stupid._

_Zuko_

**:o:o:o:**

_Zuko,_

_Did you only just realize that?_

_Toph_

**:o:o:o:**

Behind his blank expression, the Firelord was busy calculating the trajectory his body would follow if he were to launch himself across the room and strangle the slimy little leech in the other chair. Zuko's clothing, chosen for solemn grandeur rather than ease of motion, was thick and restrictive, and there was a heavy, hip height desk separating him from his intended target. He figured that if he did snap and make the leap, the guards at the door would have enough time to drag the man away before their monarch killed him.

That was probably a good thing. Probably.

"I find these . . . accusations hard to believe," Zuko said, after the silence had stretched to the point of breaking. That was a nice, neutral answer, he thought. He found lots of things hard to believe, like his ministers' assurances that he was loved by the populace, and the monthly budget reports sent out by each department, which were surely inflated to hide embezzlement. He also had little faith in the goodness of humanity. People, he knew, if not evil, were angry, greedy, and capable of terrible things. The only thing that varied was the amount of vice in each individual, and their level of control.

There were exceptions, but not many, and Zuko liked to think that he knew most of them: the Dragon of the West, the Avatar, the Queen of Omashu, Katara, and sometimes Sokka, depending on how annoying he was being. He knew them, and he trusted them. Which was more than he could say for this . . ._politician._

"Regardless, Firelord, the evidence—"

"What evidence?" Zuko interrupted, some of his anger leaking through the gaps in his vise grip. "All that you've presented thus far is secondhand gossip from untrustworthy sources. A smuggler from Ba Sing Se? The secretary of a disgraced politician? And somehow from these vague rumors you've dreamt up a conspiracy involving some of the most powerful people in the world! What would they possibly be trying to accomplish, and why would they need all the secrecy?"

"Their goal is to eliminate you," the courtier said. His aura was calm, his diction precise. If he had been intimidated by Firelord's attitude, he gave no sign. Instead, he raised his eyes and said the terrible words that haunted Zuko late at night, the words that drove him out of bed and back into his office to look over more paperwork. "Because _you_ weaken the Fire Nation."

After a moment, the man—his name was Lord Shuzon, Zuko remembered suddenly—dropped his gaze to the floor. "At least, that is what they believe, Firelord."

"According to your sources," Zuko corrected, his voice just as pleasantly bland. Lord Shuzon's use of the delicate pause had been masterful, and deeply insulting. Even Toph would have applauded, right before she flattened him beneath a wall of dirt. Unfortunately, imprisoning the man beneath a similar structure made of fire would probably kill him.

Shuzon was wise enough to not contradict him. He remained silent, sitting patiently in his chair. Looking at him, so poised as he said these poisonous things, made Zuko weary. "You may go," he said, abruptly dismissing the older man.

The lord remained seated, his muscles suddenly tense. "There is more to tell," he said, gesturing towards the bundle of scrolls he had brought with him.

"That may be, but I've heard enough." Zuko rose from his chair and moved out from behind his desk, positioning himself within easy striking range. "Rest assured, I will not forget a word you said, and will begin investigating these . . . conspiracies immediately," he said, smiling dangerously.

* * *

**:o:o:o:**

* * *

"YOU HAD MY BROTHER ARRESTED."

"No, Katara, he's not under arrest!"

"THEN WHY IS HE IN JAIL?" Aang placed himself directly in his fiancée's path, palms up and a placating smile on his face. Zuko had to admire his courage; facing down Bridezilla!Katara in a temper was something that even his most experienced warriors were hesitant to do. He wished he could speak in all capital letters like that. It might make meetings with his more recalcitrant ministers go by much faster.

"Temporary holding," the Firelord responded, from a safe distance across the room. "And may I stress the temporary? Sokka knows what is going on and he's agreed to cooperate."

The Avatar nodded, his eyes huge and pleading like a puppy seeking approval. If he had a tail it would have been wagging. "It's one of the nicer jails we've been to. They've fed him and he's got a bed and everything!"

Katara stared, stunned into silence. Zuko raised a hand to his temples and sighed. "It's temporary," he repeated. "At least until the search of his ships is finished. I promise, nothing bad is going to happen to him, and he'll be here in time for breakfast tomorrow."

"Why do you need to search his fleet?" the waterbender asked, her threat levels lowering slightly, in response to his reasonable tone.

"There have been rumors—"

"What rumors? Smuggling? Sokka is an idiot, but he isn't that much of an idiot."

Despite the circumstances, Zuko laughed. "Well, at least you think he's innocent."

"Innocent of what, exactly?" she asked, hands on her hips, a disapproving frown on her pretty face. A pose he had seen a thousand times, it felt like. Zuko blinked, suddenly lightheaded and so, so tired. Was this déjà vu?

"Taking part in a conspiracy to assassinate the firelord," he said.

"WHAT?"

"I had a rather _interesting_ meeting earlier, with a man named Lord Shuzon. A courtier, and a rather insignificant one at that. At least until this morning, when he brought forth evidence implicating several very important people in a plot against me. Sworn testimonies from witnesses, letters, and receipts, that sort of thing. He must have known how much I love paper work." He tried to smile at his own joke, but instead of turning up at the corners, his mouth twisted into a grimace.

"Oh, Zuko." Katara found a chair and sat, while Aang stood at attention behind her, one hand resting on her shoulder. "What's going on?"

Zuko took the seat across from her. "According to Lord Shuzon—and his supporters, whoever they are—my uncle was behind the most recent attempt on my life."

"The attack at our welcoming party?"

He nodded. "Yes. I'll admit, the chain of events is a touch . . . suggestive. First, you all arrive unannounced. Then a celebration is hastily arranged, and security protocols are not followed because _it's the Avatar_."

"Sorry," Aang muttered.

Zuko waved away the apology. "Usually our team would spend weeks vetting the guest list and cordoning off parts of the palace. We've had slip-ups before, but _four_ fighters bypassed past our defenses. It's unheard of.

"And then my uncle, who has not been in residence for years, steps in to handle the cleanup. Although it's been two months, he has yet to turn up anything relevant. Shuzon said that Uncle should never have been allowed to oversee the investigation, since he has no official rank and is not technically a member of the military or my staff. He also claims that Uncle has buried important evidence. That he'staking advantage of my trust, and going behind my back to contact people in power and . . . make plans."

"That's ridiculous!" Katara exclaimed, clearly outraged. "Iroh would never betray you. You _offered_ him the position of Firelord and he ran away to Ba Sing Se so you would have to take it!" Her head tilted, eyes narrowing as she thought. "But that's not exactly common knowledge, is it? You kept it quiet, so that people wouldn't think that you, that you . . ." her voice trailed off, and she shrugged her shoulders.

"Didn't want to be Firelord?" Zuko suggested dryly, realizing even as he said the words that they were inaccurate. He had been confused and overwhelmed and probably a little bit hysteric when he asked his uncle to take his place at the coronation. He had wanted to be Firelord, but he had also wanted more_time._

"Of course you wanted—still want—to be Firelord. You just had no faith in yourself," Aang said, startling Zuko with his insight. "But we all have faith in you. And so does your uncle, which is why he refused the title."

Aang spoke in the present tense, Zuko noted. The pressure behind his eyes lessened a little bit. "I know. It's the most glaringly obvious hole in Shuzon's story. His theories could almost be convincing, if Uncle and I really had argued and he was so angry with me that he moved to the Earth Kingdom."

"So how does Sokka fit into all of this?" Katara asked. Then she answered her own question. "He's controls a merchant fleet, and he has contacts spread out over all four countries. Does Chewpon, or whatever the hell his name is, think that he's their errand boy?"

"Something like that. _Shuzon," _he said, stressing the correct pronunciation, "Is convinced that this 'conspiracy' has its roots in the Earth Kingdom. Which makes sense from his point of view, I suppose, since Uncle has been living there for the past four years. And the Dai Li might have been dismantled, but a lot of former members have managed to wiggle their way into positions of power. If they aren't masterminding the entire thing, they are definitely funding it, according to him. He had copies of messages indicating that Sokka would be delivering some sort of payment."

Katara exhaled a long, gusty breath. "I see. But why detain Sokka? We know he's not guilty, but if he is part of some sort of villainous plot, wouldn't that tip off his partners?"

"Two reasons," Aang said, picking up the thread of the story. "First, if we dismissed the accusations and did nothing, Shuzon could come back later with falsified evidence, and we wouldn't be able to disprove it. This way we have it on record that the guards found nothing and your brother is completely innocent of all charges." He squeezed his fiancée's shoulder and leaned down to kiss the top of her head, lingering a moment to breathe in the scent of her hair.

The Firelord coughed and looked away, feeling as if he had just witnessed something very intimate. "And second," he said, talking fast to hide his embarrassment. "Shuzon was strongly in favor of arresting Sokka. I think his plan was to cast suspicion on both Sokka and Iroh. We were supposed to find . . . something, confiscate it, and then once we had it locked away as evidence it would mysteriously disappear, in such a way as to further incriminate my uncle."

"Clever," Katara said. "But risky. So many things could go wrong, and something obviously did. Why didn't you tell me earlier?"

"Err . . . we would have brought you in this morning, but you were in a dress fitting," Aang said, a sheepish smile on his face. "I didn't want to bother you."

She smiled back, the smug expression of a woman who has her future husband well trained.


End file.
